Mocking Bird
by s-scav
Summary: “When I was born, my doctor told my parents I wouldn’t make it through the night..." -- A "what if" fic based on if Patrick Scavo had lived.
1. If That Mocking Bird Don't Sing

Pollie Scavo, a beautiful little baby girl, was born with her father's eyes and her mother's blonde hair.

Patrick Scavo, a handsome baby boy, was born with his father's smile and his mother's indomitable will.

* * *

The tubes and wires underscored the reality of their baby boy's illness: he had a brain contusion since his mother had fallen, he had a restricted air pipe after the cord had been wrapped around his neck, and whatever else could have gone wrong, did.

"How is he doing?"

"Lynette!—" She startled Tom, who had been standing at the windows of the NICU nursery. "What are you doing out of your room?"

She had walked up behind him. Pressing her hand against the glass right next to his, she leaned closer, immediately finding her new twins.

"I'm fine." She blurted, disregarding that she had just given birth – twice -- and then traveled by herself from Maternity to NICU. "But Patrick – have they said anything?"

Tom chewed on that question, it was almost laughable at how little they were being told. He said, "I overheard some nurses saying how bad they felt for us. It doesn't sound good, honey."

"Well, I knew that. They're not telling us anything, they're not letting us be with him. We're his parents; we should be allowed to be with him, especially if this is it."

"Don't say that."

"What am I supposed to say?" She fired back. She was feeling so guilty, and it showed on her lined face. "He's sick, and it's all my fault, and I can't even do anything about it."

"Lynette, none of this is your fault."

"Yes it is." Lynette inhaled, "I had wished I had never gotten pregnant. I said all of those horrible things. And worse, I meant every single word I said. I can't take it back. I can't un-wish this. I just wish I could make him better."

"Nothing you said made him this way. Nothing." Tom said, prying her away from the glass. He held onto her shoulders, and could feel them trembling under his hands.

"Who are you kidding?" Her voice cracked. Her eyes lowered, "I ruined his life. If he even has one."

"Don't write him off. If he's anything like you, he'll pull through. You'll see."

She wasn't sure if she could believe her husband. But she knew he was trying to be supportive, and she loved him for that. Lynette sighed, defeated. "I'd give anything for him to live. It's not fair."

"I don't think that's in our hands anymore, honey." Tom said, and let go of her shoulders so that they could go back to looking into the nursery.

They spotted their babies, one in a pink knit hat and the other in blue. Pollie was healthy, a perfect beauty and equally resembled both of her parents. She was asleep in a bassinet next to Patrick's incubator, swarmed with tubes, drips, drugs, and whatever else. His breathing was haggard, and obviously a struggle.

"No, it's really not." She agreed to herself. It felt inevitable. The poor baby was sick, really sick. And they both could see how bad it was.

She turned her back, leaning against the window. Tom looped his arms around her, and for a moment, they relaxed in each other's embrace. Tom kissed into Lynette's hair, when he noticed Dr. Crane traveling around in the nursery.

Dr. Crane came out into the hall, "Ms. Scavo, you're up?"

Ignoring the question, Lynette immediately unwrapped from the hug with her husband. "Our baby – how is he?"

"I'm afraid no different, and there's not much we can do right now."

"Well, do anything. Please. Save our son!"

"Doing anything more would be a big risk." The doctor explained. "I think now all we can do is let nature run it's course."

Tom grimaced. "What does that mean? You're giving up on him?"

"He's very weak; we have to be sure he gains strength before we can do anything else. But I don't see any improvement in strength yet."

Lynette felt like she had been punched in the chest, because for a moment she would swear she couldn't breathe. Tom, sensing her weakness, held on to her. "Oh.. _my god_.. We're losing him, aren't we?"

"Its possible he won't see tomorrow." Dr. Crane slowly told them. "Right now all I can say to you is that you should go be with him, and your daughter, and start hoping for a miracle."

Her already weepy heart throbbed. One of the babies she had never really admitted to wanting was terminal. Tears were glassing her tired eyes. While losing one baby, she'd have the permanent reminder of the other for the rest of her life.

Dr. Greene entered the nursery and Tom trailed behind. His sad eyes lured her, and then he was gone. How could this new little world of theirs already be falling apart? She couldn't handle that answer, so she turned around, and began towards the elevator.

* * *

TBC...?


	2. Ain't Meant For This Love

Thanks for the comments. : ) Wasn't sure about this fic.

* * *

The elevator doors weren't opening quickly enough, but she had to get away, so she went to the stairwell. Down and down she spiraled, eventually making it to her floor at Maternity. When she got to her hospital room, she breathed deeply, having no strength left to stifle tears. They began to leak ruthlessly, through red, sad eyes.

And then Lynette saw that her room was dotted by bouquets of flowers, and baskets filled with muffins, and newborn items. She wiped her face with her palms, unsure of what she was seeing. There were more gifts than her eyes could handle. Adoring and hating them all at once, Lynette walked over to the hospital bed, pulling a little note out of a particular vase of flowers.

_Lynette, Congratulations! – Much love, Gaby, Susan, and Bree_.

Lynette sat on the side of the bed. Her friends didn't know the truth. All they knew was that her water had broken earlier in the day during a poker game. But how was she going to tell her friends about their tragedy when she couldn't even think about it herself?

She folded her friends' note in her hands, over and over again, as if it were a distraction from reality.

However, a voice drew her back. "Lynette?" She looked up at Tom. "Hey – you disappeared on me."

Back down she looked, now using the little note to avoid eye contact. "I can't be in there."

"Why?"

"I just–" She faltered. She couldn't express the millions of feelings surging her veins: destroyed over Patrick's health, afraid for the future, and yet, trying to retain some elation towards the twins' arrival.

Tom walked over to her, sitting gently by her side. "I don't like seeing him like this either, Lynette. But whether you like it or not, he's our son."

"Honey…" Tom, in a soft voice, coaxed her to look at him. She looked up. "I know this is a lot to deal with, but I don't think we have much time here." He said, while stroking her hand. "I think you should hold him."

"What?"

"I know you. If anything happens to this baby you will never forgive yourself." Tom told her. "He's not in good shape. The doctor said he doesn't have much time. Lynette, you had better fall in love with this baby before anything worse happens to him."

"I do love him. I do—"

"Than why aren't you with him?"

Lynette lowered her eyes, biting on her lip, fighting desperately with the fresh tears contending her eyes. Her face became strained with worry and sadness. "What if he doesn't make it? W-what then?"

Tom draped his arm over his wife, protectively pulling her into him. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that their baby would be all right, but he knew that saying those thing might be lying. He kissed her temple, drawing her even closer for his own sake. "Then we find a way to survive and move on."

* * *

TBC.


	3. Here We Stand

Another quickie since the last one was short :)

* * *

Surviving and moving on was something Lynette knew she could do, so after a few minutes of weeping in Tom's arms, she collected herself. She sat straight up, wiping tears off her face. Tom then kissed her forehead so lightly, fresh tears washed over her, but Lynette let them dissolve.

"Let's go."

Tom obliged with a smile, knowing that if he didn't, his wife never would go back to NICU. His fingers connected with hers, something they did when he knew they needed each other. And in this instance, they did. Tom knew trek back up to NICU was going to be a game of encouraging and comforting Lynette.

...

It was a flurry of lifelessness and the nursery still frightened Lynette. But while holding her breath, and with the heartening whispers of her husband, Lynette crossed the room of softly buzzing machines and quiet babies. Lynette immediately fixed her eyes on Pollie, who was in an incubator adjacent to Patrick's. The doctor thought keeping the twins together was worth a shot. Perhaps their joint energies would help Patrick.

A nurse interrupted the infatuation with Pollie with a welcoming, "Hello."

Tom smiled back at her as she opened up Patrick's incubator. Tom and Lynette, side by side, moved over to him. They stared intently at the beautiful boy in front of them, struggling to live. Tubes were running in and out of every available part of his body. His breathing was haggard. He was in far worse conditions than his twin, healthy and pink.

It was just as hard as they had thought. Or harder. To Lynette, looking at this pale, distressed baby was the worst thing in the world. What was even worse was that there was nothing she could do for him. To Tom, watching his wife so gone made his head hurt from the wishing of better things.

The nurse adjusted Patrick's IV. Lynette was startled. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just readjusting the wires so he's more comfortable." The dark haired nurse smiled. She could feel Lynette's tension; she was overwrought, slightly swaying as she stared wide-eyed at her sick baby. "He's comfortable now. Are you ready to hold him?"

She thought about it. "Uh, no. No thanks."

Tom looked at his wife with encouraging eyes. He knew she wanted to, she knew she wanted to, but she was terrified. He looked breakable, fragile to the point that it was unreal.

With a nod, the nurse smiled understandingly. She had seen terrified parents many times before. The nurse then looked up to Tom with suggestion.

"I will." Tom responded.

With the help of the nurse, Tom scooped the baby out of his incubator, wires and tubes in tow. He couldn't go very far due to the IVs, so Tom stood in place rocking Patrick. But for a moment, he removed his eyes from his son to look at his wife. Lynette was staring unbreakably at Patrick, memorizing every detail of the tiny being. She was certain he had Tom's smile, the way his lips curved gently at the corners. She was sure he had Tom's eyes, because when he blinked, for only a second, she could swear she saw a familiar hazel.

The baby's distressed breathing was suddenly muted by Lynette's own choking up, and Tom could tell she was trying her best to ignore the eminent breakdown. In fact, Tom was waging war with his own tear ducts.

"Hey, champ." Tom cooed, voice cracking. "Happy Birthday."

Lynette swallowed hard, eyes darting between Tom, Patrick, and Pollie, who was in her incubator next to her mother.

"I'm your dad. And your mom… she's right here with you. We both are."

Lynette couldn't take it any longer. A display of emotions exploded on her face as she lifted her hand, hesitantly, to stroke Patrick's wisps of hair. "We love you.. _so _much."

Tom smiled at her, and she held out her arms. "I can do this."

Tom was satisfied with his wife's effort, and leaned in, kissing her soft on the lips. Pulling apart, he laid the baby in her arms. Tom stepped back, soaking in the sight of Lynette holding their youngest son for the first time. This wasn't how he envisioned it, but he knew that was exactly how his family was supposed to be.

* * *

TBC...


End file.
